


one dash two dash four

by s0fthope



Series: love in the time of 2039 [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Canon-Typical Violence, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, Deviant Upgraded Connor | RK900, Gen, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Lowercase, Mental Health Issues, Minor Injuries, Self-Harm, Trans Gavin Reed, did i finish playing this game?, k9 as nine, subjects are typical of the actual game, the cats have fantastic names, uh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 08:58:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17505560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s0fthope/pseuds/s0fthope
Summary: something between them had finally begun to click, much to nine's amusement. however, gavin hadn't been to work in over a week. taking matters into his own hands to check on someone he might actually call a friend may have been an outstanding idea...among other, crueler, adjectives.





	one dash two dash four

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone! this fic is the first in a series i'll be uploading as the week goes on. it's been quite a work in progress, and i hope you enjoy!  
> for reference, this fic takes place in late february of 2039.

as much as it pained him to admit his own fault, most of gavin didn’t fully hate the dpd androids. dislike, yes. have a reasonable fear of, absolutely. but as time went on, he came to the realization that connor was far from dangerous: smiles dancing across his face, starting conversations with gavin in the elevator about his pets, going as far as to check in on him every so often if he worked longer than three or four hours straight. it made gavin settle into a routine, a learning curve of connor’s own behaviors. gavin understood he was a good kid. RK had made sure that gavin was on good terms with connor--more affectionately ‘eights’-- and apologized for all his shameful behaviors. connor accepted his apologies, but still laughed every time reed got his ass handed to him. 

nine-hundred, however, was one consistent shove down the stairs after the other. he was able to swiftly avoid conversation with real humans, instead opting to send messages to connor, rather than speak to him. every chance of interaction was stopped just before it began--a pointed look in gavin’s direction could shut his mouth in an instant. 

nine used his height to loom over gavin in the first few weeks of their partnership, black sleeves rolled up to his elbows, arms folded roughly across his chest. every movement was under nine’s scrutiny. gavin’s only hope was to scrutinize the same--meet his gaze the best he could, mouth off just to get his attention. maybe he liked it. but he wouldn’t admit that over his own damn corpse. once nine realized he wanted to work, just not  _ for  _ gavin, conversation was able to get better and worse all at once. less asking for things, more shouting, but more working together instead of against each other.

the tension between them softened dramatically by two functions: late case work and patrol--bumping knees and elbows, passing papers between them, pushing the car’s seat all the way back, gavin’s tired face shifting as he read. nine would pile the old files together, tablet set in between them, finally bringing his hand up to touch gavin’s shoulder as his head bobbed. 

_ let us finish up, you look as if you could use some sleep, _ rk told him.

_ didn’t know you cared so much, tin, _

_ detective-- _

_ gavin, _ he would reply, voice low.

_ you need some sleep, gavin, _

the gazes that met gavin became less cold, more quizzical, curious. his scrutiny now came more from a new streak of study and less from punishment. gavin would call him over to ask him questions, have him check over work and revise documents, nine leaning over his shoulder, gavin’s hand hovering over his arm. something between them began to click, allowed them to work together with very little argument.

but gavin’s chair had been empty for a week.

 

nine awoke against the wall closest to the closet in hank’s room, arms folded across his chest, a blanket draped over his shoulders. connor preferred to sleep, fetal, beside hank, sumo curled at his feet. nine sometimes had the pleasure of awakening halfway into the night to find sumo’s head against his knee. this morning was one of those, and as he set a hand atop the dog’s head, sumo gave a tired  _ rrf _ and sighed. the ghost of a smile crossed his face as he scratched between sumo’s ears. 

“sumo?” connor’s voice called tiredly, blurring the consonants and vowels together.

“shut up, kid.” hank spoke next, voice much less tired.

“good morning, everyone,” nine said, to which both connor and hank protested loudly.

“shut up, both of you.”

“it’s not my fault,” connor whined.

“you’ve both been asleep for over nine hours.” nine stretched, arms high above his head. he reached behind him, pulling the charging cord from his neck with a small click.

“because we went to bed at ten last night. it’s only eight, nines.”

“it is good to get a regulated amount of sleep each night, eights.”

a pillow smacked nine in the face, causing sumo to jolt up and off his lap. he frowned, screwing up his face, threw the pillow back in their direction in retaliation.

_ you two are insufferable _ , nine sent connor as he stood. he skirted out of the room, sumo at his heels, and into the main living space. pajama clad and hair sticking up from where his head had rested against the wall, he started the coffee maker for hank, fished in the fridge for a tube of thirium, feeling suspiciously low. he combed his hair back with his fingers. sumo let out a low  _ arf _ when nine’s back was turned to him, which reminded him that sumo needed to be fed as well. he scooped a generous portion of dog food into sumo’s bowl and popped the twist lid to the pouch of thirium.

really, it was eight fifteen, and connor had left him on read (which was  _ so _ rude), but nine knew better than to wake the two if they had a chance to sleep in. connor had adapted so quickly to being so human and even in the three months that had passed since connor’s deviancy, nine hadn’t yet. he was a mix of strange emotions and weird feelings and noticed he was drinking the thirium too quickly, which also made him feel weird and strange if not slightly more stable. 

he rifled through a few simulations to pass time as he sat at the table--trial runs of potential missions, conversations, all obsessive, running tracks in his head, before they evened out, gave positives back, and he let himself settle into the secure expanse of the butchart botanical gardens. february was when the garden was in its prime in british columbia, despite the snow that littered the ground both where nine was in detroit and where the garden lay in victoria. nothing had bloomed just yet, but the snowy expanse lit his mind’s eye in shades of pale green and white as he moved amongst it, consumed in his musings.

there wasn’t much to think about, or much he wanted to seek out--the heavy emotions he had been feeling, or the confusing situations he had placed himself in, trying to work out relations with colleagues were too difficult and he found himself spending more time with connor in the meantime. connor was a much needed anchor in a world he wasn’t sure he could properly understand; he felt certain he could trust his older brother in most endeavors. he knew it would be inevitable that connor would find him here, matched the same frequency in his dreams and wormed his way into nine’s thoughts by simple bravado alone. it hadn’t been the first time they connected in that fashion and not through interface. but then he would have to explain why he had been so anxious lately, so focused on his work.

“you’re thinking about something,” connor’s voice met him, not inside the gardens, but outside. blinking several times, he saw the blurred outline of connor standing across the room, one hand curled around a glass with blue liquid inside. his pajamas were big, falling off of him, large sweatpants and t-shirt.

“it’s nothing much,” nine shook his head, rubbed at his eyes to be able to see connor properly. connor made his way, slowly, over to him, balancing the glass dangerously between his fingers, teetering as he walked. he plopped down in front of nine, taking a long sip of the thirium in the glass.

“you were just in your head, nines, i could see it.”

“it does not mean what i was thinking of was important, eights. it’s rather foolish.”

connor shook his head, reached out one hand, palm flat against the table.

“if you’d like to show me instead?”

nine hesitated, but slowly placed his hand over connor’s, soft white skin meeting each other. he felt connor in his mind, drifting through the shelves of memories and ideas, rifling through bottles of unsure emotions, stopping at a particularly biting thought--the one that had rolled over and over in nine’s brain, unable to be put away, always lurking in the back of his mind.

he heard the small, internal  _ oh _ from connor, couldn’t stop himself from visibly wincing. 

every positive moment he and gavin had spent together, the slow realization of what he might be feeling, each trapped thought boiled down upon itself, all combined with how worried and stressed he felt about gavin’s absence. it was all bared for connor to flip through like a scrapbook of embarrassments and faulty code. he could feel connor trying to soothe him, both mentally and physically, a rush of positive energy, the soft motion of his thumb against nine’s wrist. 

it didn’t help.

nine finally pulled his hand away, the uncomfortable feeling rising too high in his throat.

“it’s horribly foolish,” he coped. connor’s face, wrought with worry, felt like both a curse and a blessing as he tried not to look him in the eye. 

“oh, nines, it’s not,” connor tried, but nine stopped him.

“it is, eights. i put him in his place and now that he gives me the time of day i--”

“ _ nines _ ,” connor interjected. “it is  _ not  _ foolish, and it  _ is  _ okay. if it’s how you feel that it isn’t a flaw,” he took another sip of his drink. “how many times have you worked it out?”

he knew connor meant how many times he had run a potential situation, a common trait they both shared, one which he felt they both utilized too often, too much.

“fifteen times.”

another sip.

“how many positives?”

“eight.”

“potentials?”

“four.”

connor sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. it stuck against his scalp for a second before falling forward again. 

“then it can’t be foolish.” connor concluded. he drained his glass, crossed both arms over his chest. he knew nine wouldn’t believe him, not for a single second, but the rush of being right, of knowing what nine didn’t, pushing nine to just  _ go for it _ , to be human, was so much better. he would have hank talk to him once hank mustered the energy to get out of bed, but he couldn’t expect the same calculated approach that nine appreciated. the coffee pot gurgled in a last effort and stopped hissing.

connor stood, but paused for a moment, turning back toward nine.

“how long have you known?” connor asked, then frowned. “no,” he tried. “when did the newest one start?”

“a month and a half ago. he fell asleep while we were working late. i gave him my jacket because he was cold. he let me take him home and realized that i had finished the work myself and  _ thanked _ me.”

connor’s voice was borderline sarcastic as he spoke. “oh, how sweet.”

nine resisted the urge to swat at him as he shuffled away, snickering under his breath.

“excuse me,” hank’s voice piped up from the bedroom. “can you please keep it down, thank you?”

nine sighed, resting his chin against his hand. connor reached up into the cabinet, pouring out a cup of coffee, supposedly for hank.

“we all know this house is never quiet,” connor said to himself.

“and yet we still try,” nine muttered, earning a pointed look from connor.

it had been a very long process to convince hank to allow the other android into his home. most of the convincing came from the fact that connor did indeed have a job, and the low cost of thirium was nothing to be worried over. he had also recently declared himself connor  _ anderson _ , assimilating himself into hank’s life as his newfound son--how hank took this was still unclear, but there wasn’t much protest. nine had been quick to find, easy to wrap up into the life of a detroit police department forensics officer, and he was very much good at his job. despite having a small, almost cubicle sized place that he called his own, he found himself at hank’s home quite frequently.

despite calling for silence, hank emerged from the bedroom several minutes later, bleary eyed and still half asleep. connor handed him the cup of coffee he had just poured, which hank took without a word, settling himself at the kitchen table, barely noticing nine, much less seeing him leave to change into the clothes he had brought with him.

hank was still sitting at the kitchen table when nine approached him again, dressed as if he were leaving for work, not planning to leave for the grocers.

“hank, i have a problem,” he said and promptly sat in front of him at the table. looking over from his coffee, hank raised both eyebrows. he was much more awake than he had been fifteen minutes prior, the last dregs of his coffee pulling him from sleep.

“sure, shoot, kid.”

the semblance of a frown crossed nine’s face-- _ shoot what? _ \--and connor snickered from across the room-- _ he means go ahead _ \--before nine spoke again.

“it is a problem with gavin.”

hank resisted rolling his eyes, but sighed with force. “oh, hell, what did he do now?”

the frown, once again. nine waved his hands, folding them together on the table, shifting his weight around in the chair.

“no, he hasn’t done anything wrong. i just--i’m worried about his health.” nine shut his eyes, as if what he was saying was painful for him. hank watched with a stone in his stomach, not sure whether to reach out and comfort him or continue to sit where he was. nine continued after a long inhale.

“i care very... _ deeply _ about him and his well being. i’m not sure how to help or what to do.”

he looked up at hank and hank kicked himself mentally, a faint memory from over a month ago passing through his mind. 

_ gavin grabbed his arm as hank passed him near the elevator, voice and face pressed, almost anxious. “hank, hank, hey, listen, can i talk to you?” _

_ hank’s face was a deep, pensive frown. “sure, is everything okay?” _

_ “well i’m a fuckin’ idiot, but other than that...” _

_ he hit gavin’s arm, shaking his head. “what are you talkin’ about, spit it out.” _

_ “K9--” gavin began, but cut himself off as another officer passed them, beaming, gavin waving back. _

_ “what about him?” _

_ “we’ve been getting a lot closer and--god, i’m so stupid, hank, i’m completely twisted--” _

_ “gavin, what?” _

_ “i  _ like  _ him, hank. romantically. it’s so stupid, i--” _

_ “you are such an idiot, kid, but that’s not stupid. you’re gen z, don’t be ridiculous. just--go talk to him or something.” _

“just...go talk to him, son. i promise everything will work out,” the hint of a smile and a knowing glint showed on hank’s face--nine’s eyebrows furrowed, but he nodded once in affirmation, finding the answer suitable enough to quell any anxieties he had.

“thank you, hank,” nine said as he stood. hank beckoned him over, patted his forearm as nine moved to stand next to him.

“of course, kid, it’s the least i could do.”

 

nine found himself inside gavin’s apartment complex and outside his door around four pm, not quite sure of what had driven him to come all that way on a whim. perhaps it had been what hank told him.

_ talk to him _ .

a strange twist in his prediction algorithm made nine pause, closed fist hovering near the door. he remembered what connor had said, how gavin might be potentially ignoring them. but he let a long breath out through his nose and rapped twice on the door.

after a beat, he heard the door unlock, a sliver of gavin’s pale face peeking out into the hall.

“gavin,” nine said gently, hands folding in front of him. 

“what do you want,” gavin’s voice was rough in texture, sore. nine could almost feel gavin’s heart hammering from where he stood, stress tipping above fifty. he wore dark, purple bags under the bottom of his eyes.

“i wanted to...” nine frowned, “i wanted to check in on you.”

gavin’s face screwed up for a fraction of a second, before mellowing back out. he stepped back, pushing the door open for nine to enter. nine stepped in without formal invitation, letting gavin’s body language do the speaking for him. gavin’s shoulders were on the verge of pulling him to the floor, spine curled in a sloping semi circle in on itself, clothes almost ballooning off him. he let the door fall shut behind him, watching nine shed his coat and slip out of his shoes. by the time he had done so, an orange cat had swayed over to meet him, and gavin had busied himself in the kitchen, fridge thrown open.

“you want something to drink?” he tried. nine almost winced, his poised facade failing him.

“unfortunately, i can’t drink anything,” he apologized. gavin shut the door of the refrigerator, a can of four loko in his hand.  _ fourteen percent alcohol by volume, sixty grams of sugar, six hundred calories-- _

“alright,” gavin popped the tab of the can, took a long sip. the expression on his face didn’t change as he stood, slightly slouched, in the center of the kitchen, nine four feet away and still facing him, his eyes running across his face and to the can in his hand. there lay a bare spin of yellow in his LED. the cat made its way over to gavin, and only then did gavin move, bending down to run his hand across its back. 

“does that have caffeine in it?” nine asked, breaking the silence. gavin pulled a face, but squinted at the label.

“not anymore.”

“they were banned for having caffeine twenty four years ago.”

“thanks, google,” gavin huffed, shoulders rising and falling, and pushed past nine. he continued to chug the sugar-filled beverage as he walked, setting the mostly empty can on the countertop as he moved around to it. for a moment he stood, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants, looking across the messy expanse of his apartment and the lights strewn past the glass door of his patio. something inside him was pulling, driving him to speak, but he wasn’t sure if it was the mix of alcohol and the 200mg of testosterone he had taken that morning, or the theoretical, uncomfortable weight on his chest.

“so,” he began, without looking over at nine, his voice just pressed enough to pull at nine’s emotional core, “just gonna watch me sit in front of the tv until i fall asleep?”

“detective, please--”

gavin turned his torso to face nine, face drawn tight and angry, “did hank send you here?” he spat, “of course he did, fucking asshole--”

“he didn’t,”

gavin’s shoulders slacked, but his face remained molded in a mask of indifference. “fine,” he shrugged, nonplussed, shaking his head. 

his cat circled his feet again, but as he shuffled forward to sit on the couch, moved away from him. nine took several cautious steps forward, but as gavin made no move to stop him, sat in the chair next to the couch. he folded his hands in his lap and looked over at the detective’s face. nothing about it had changed--in fact, with his arms crossed over his chest, stare vacant and fixed to the quiet, subtitled news broadcast, he seemed even more cross with nine for just  _ being  _ there.

nine cleared his throat out of habit, rather than necessity. “i understand if you didn’t want to see me, detective--”

“jesus, just call me by my name,” gavin rolled his eyes, but his expression headily changed as nine spoke again, a touch of concern flooding his voice.

“ _ gavin _ ,” he tried, eyes soft. gavin fought the urge to look nine in the eye. “despite us being simply colleagues, your work absences have been extremely concerning, for myself and for the rest of the staff,”

gavin dropped his head, staring into his lap. his arms remained tightly folded across his chest, one leg propped up on the coffee table in front of him. nine continued to watch his movement, looking for some kind of answer and not getting it.

“jeez, kill me why don’t you,” he said, finally meeting nine’s gaze, who blinked, alarmed. gavin waved his hand. “i’m just sick.”

“do you get sick often?”

“yeah, yeah i do.”

gavin turned back to the television, eyebrows coming together tightly. nine watched the side of his face still, until he turned to watch the subtitles flick across the screen. it was a repeat of that morning’s news, which nine had already read through himself, flicking through each article mentally, catching up as  he and connor took their break together. he’d often found himself outside with connor, shoulders bumping together as they passed bits of information through their hands. it was efficient, relaxing, a support system nine didn’t know he needed until he found himself looking forward to his two fifteen break after an eleven am lunch period. 

but gavin watched it with a certain intensity that nine didn’t understand--was it the politics, the natural disasters, the  _ on the road _ segments?--so he sat quiet, hands still placid in his lap, legs still folded. after a few solid minutes of four pm news broadcasting, the tv ran a quirky, slice of life, office show. despite the low volume, he heard gavin chuckle at a few of the jokes, the hint of a smile coming to his face before fading. he could sense that gavin’s stress level had drastically dropped (now resting around twenty), but his face still lacked color or energy.

“gavin,” nine asked, uncertainty picking up in his tone. “have you eaten or drank anything today?”

the question spiked gavin’s anxiety level, but it didn’t show on his face.

“i drank the loko,” he said, voice nonchalant.

“that’s not nutritious.”

“whatever,” gavin turned the volume of the television up several notches, slipping further down into the couch. 

nine mused to himself for a moment, trying to recall what he saw gavin eat. take out? salad? anything besides purely caffeinated drinks? he didn’t know--couldn’t recall. would connor?

_ eights _ , he sent, message relaying almost as a visual text to his brother.

_ hi--everything okay? is reed okay? _

_ gavin is fine.  _

_ oh, good! _

_ but i do not know what he eats. _

_ you could ask him _

nine frowned to himself, shaking his head.

_ but i am asking you. _

_ alright... _

there was a brief delay before connor continued.

_ hank told me he will eat anything _

_ how specific. _

_ at least it’s something, nines _

_ fair point. thank you, eights. _

_ sure _

nine sensed the warm impression of a smile, a soothing, almost soft touch, mind clearing calmly. he blinked, searched quickly for the closest restaurant that offered delivery, ordered three dishes off the menu, charged everything to his own card. 

anything gavin didn’t eat hank could. it was the least he could do. part of nine, laden with a heavy pressure, assumed gavin’s leave of absence directly correlated to his own actions, as if he had pushed gavin away and to a breaking point mentally. he, in turn, had the sharp realization of what could happen to the relationship between them, be it that gavin no longer wanted to work with him.

_ was his safety the only reason i took the time to come here? _ nine thought, unsure. unsure of how his emotional core was running in the present moments and the many moments before this past week where gavin had been absent. the moments in which gavin had actually cared about his well being, on the same level as human mortality and afflictions--sleep, injury, emotional stress. none of it bothered nine, in all honesty, but gavin’s concern left an empty feeling in him.

“i’ve ordered some food.”

“okay,” gavin’s voice fell empty, thick with a timbre nine couldn’t place.

“it’d be good for you to eat. perhaps change as well.”

“okay,” the same tone, echoing, jumbled together, only a touch louder than the television’s soft words. gavin eased into a stand, body swaying and swinging with momentum, propelling his slumped form forward and toward the direction of what nine assumed was his bedroom. he opened the door wide enough for nine to catch a glimpse inside, see a starkly (sans a set of pajamas tossed to the floor) clean room, made bed. he watched gavin peel his shirt from him and grab another before snapping his gaze toward the television. a door shut in his peripheral, but it wasn’t the bedroom door.

nine watched the show to its completion as gavin changed, presumably showered as well. he mentally bookmarked the name to show connor and hank--something older, maybe the early 30s, something to do with day to day jobs in government, nonsensical jokes. a causal watch at the most. nine left himself sift through several similar show options until he heard a knock on the front door. he stood, stretching out his limbs, went to retrieve the food left by the delivery droid. the boxes were still warm to the touch, and nine left them on the countertop.

“gavin?” he called. “if you’d like me to put this food into the refrigerator, please let me know. otherwise, it has been delivered.”

hands still curled around the boxes of delivery, he waited for gavin’s response, but only heard shuffling. when no voice came, he called again, moving back from the countertop and toward the center of the room, edging near the doorway to his room. he could hear gavin rummaging around more clearly, an incessant, but incomprehensible mantra coming from the bathroom. the noises sounded strained, borderline garbled. as he stepped into the room, reached down to pick the laundry from the floor to set on the bed, he noticed several--at least three--other cans of the four loko drink gavin had previously consumed. he collected them, each still a touch cool, set them upright on the nightstand. 

his stomach dipped in an uncomfortable way, in a way he neither liked nor was used to.

nine heard a small clatter, followed by a startled, yet muffled shout, the same tonality as gavin’s voice. 

“gavin?” nine moved to the bathroom door. no response to his voice came from gavin, but the sound of movement did. nine jiggled the handle to the door, which surprisingly twisted and opened.

“gavin?” he said again. gavin met his gaze with wide, glassy eyes, pupils blown.

he was curled in on himself, back against the edge of the tub at the far end of the bathroom, eyes desperately searching for an escape from nine’s tall frame in the doorway. he clutched to one arm, fingers curled tight enough to show pale against his skin, breath coming heavy and labored. he gasped, face contorting to match the livid wave that passed over him 

“what the fuck?” he managed, choking out the words. “get the fuck out of here! get the fuck out of my bathroom!” he managed to scramble up, jolting, stumbling, toward nine, his words slurring together. “get out!”

he pointed a shiny, sharp,  _ something _ in nine’s general direction, the hand that held it coming away from his arm bloody. nine could see the red stain that drifted from his upper forearm and down to his wrist, threatening to spill over his fingers. a thin, long gash. two. three. the remnants of another. another bottle, not four loko, perched atop the toilet.

_ [error: software instability] _

_ [error: stress level 89%] _

“gavin, what are you doing?” nine’s face twisted, horrified. he could feel his own heart hammering, his stress high, gavin’s stress way above normal. “reed, what, what is that, what the--”

“god damn it!” gavin shouted, jutting the blade at him. “what the fuck do you think! i’m trying to kill myself! i’m trying to fucking die!”

“gavin,” nine spread his hands in front of him in surrender.

“i--” gavin faltered. “i’m trying to kill myself! i-- _ please _ ! just--” the knife wobbled in his hand, threatening to fall, tipping and clattering to the floor as gavin shuffled back. he gave an awful shudder, breathing ragged.

“gavin, please look at me,” nine tried. he moved forward, gavin moving back as he did, their steps matching until gavin met the glass of the shower. he crashed hard against it. his breath practically seized as he did, fingers digging into the glass paneling with no avail.

_ [error: instability in the left frontal cortex] _

the notification appears just to the side of him, eyes flicking to it, flicking it away.

“i fucking  _ can’t _ ,” gavin managed, each word so hoarse that it dug into nine’s empathetic systems ( _ error: thalamus distress, error: overload of ganglial systems _ ), egging him to reach out to gavin. he didn’t have to. his voice came soft, hands spread in front of him, curling himself forward just slightly.

“ _ gavin _ ,”

gavin slumped into him, the tone of nine’s voice causing him to collapse all at once, legs and knees buckling, sinking to the floor. he fisted his hands in the front of nine’s shirt, a wrenching, pathetic sound ripping from him, a rattling inhale and exhale, the sounds of him hyperventilating. nine clutched to him in fear, one arm around his back and the other at the base of his neck. his eyes were wide with shock still, but he gripped to gavin, stabilizing him.

“gavin, breathe, breathe slow for me, it’s okay.”

_ [rate of survival: 94%] _

“i can’t, i can’t do it.” the sounds bubbled up in gavin’s chest, mixing with the sloshing wavering of his voice. continuous quick breaths, awful sobs.

“then breathe with me.”

“i--no, i don’t--i can’t--”

“ _ please _ .” nine took a long, synthesized breath in through his nose, let it out, chin resting against the top of gavin’s head. he still pressed heavy on gavin’s back. he tried to ground him this way, slow the rush of the autonomic nervous system, increase his level of dopamine, oxytocin. he felt gavin’s breath begin to stabilize, before becoming deep and even, punctuated by small, wet sobs, hiccups, sniffles. his face was pressed hard against the hollow of nine’s neck, but that wasn’t nine’s concern. 

“god, damn it,” gavin managed as he breathed out. his arms had come around to hold tightly to nine, coiled around his shoulders. “i can’t...”

“you can’t what, gavin? please, try to talk to me,” his voice hummed against gavin’s cheek on his throat. he felt gavin take in another breath.

“i felt--i feel so useless,” gavin’s voice scratched, hiccuped as he spoke, “one bad night and i can’t fucking go back to work and then i fucking dissociate and drink and your fucking roomba-slash-amazon alexa ass checks in on me out of pity because you have to--”

“i wanted to,” nine stated plainly.

“no, you didn’t.”

“i did, i care about you.”

“yeah, okay.”

nine gave him a gentle squeeze. “i  _ do _ .”

gavin sniffed, stuttering out a sound in response, but coughed and continued.

“i just can’t think. nothing matters. it’s all pointless. i can’t do anything.”

nine shushed him, hesitantly pushing his face against the top of gavin’s hair, breathing in slow and soft. gavin followed suit.

“it’s  _ okay _ . you need to  _ breathe _ , gavin.”

gavin held fast to him, breathing against his shoulder, each a bit deeper, and his grip faltering around nine’s torso. he curled impossibly closer, toeing the line between being cradled and being swaddled.

“nines,” gavin whined. that nickname was new, something nine had only heard twice, both out of gavin’s mouth--nine swallowed hard, composing himself, and exhaling all at once.

“yes?”

gavin hesitated, then spoke, with his words muddled and tired and thick. “just...can you stay until i can get up?”

nine shut his eye and, pressed circles drawn with his palm to gavin’s back. gavin gripped him a fraction tighter, body sagging with weight.

“i will,” nine promised. “i’ll do that.”

“okay,” gavin managed--but his voice broke, caught in a sob that convulsed through him. nine’s tight grip stayed around him. nine hushed gavin as he sat against him--something in nine sank, pulling with the force of concern and a soft, warm, solemness. he continued to hold him without complaint, letting gavin’s fingers dig into his shoulders--what did gavin need from him, what did he want, why was he so complacent? was it because nine had actually checked on him? the feeling rose in him again, a combination of sickening concern and care. 

_ [stress level: 64%--enter warm reboot?] _

_ [denied] _

gavin reed had horrible taste--if he liked gavin, that meant his taste was even worse.

“gavin,” nine prefaced, pushing back the staticky thoughts in his brain, still evening his touch across gavin’s back, “because i am your partner with the dpd, despite whether you like that or not, i think we should talk about the state of your mental health once you’re feeling open to it,”

gavin nodded against him, sniffling in hard.

“yeah,” gavin replied, sounding as if he could fare the situation well enough. he settled as a comfortable weight on nine’s chest, and nine found this almost soothing, despite the tense situation.

as gavin sat up, moved to pull his arms back from around nine, his face twisted unexpectedly, in a grimace of pain. he jerked his arm back, holding tight to it. gavin’s face remained pale as he whimpered pathetically, holding his bare arm to his chest, mouth still a white line in pain, but face strewn with equal amounts of annoyance as well. nine felt the back of his shirt--it was sticky to the touch.

“we need to clean that,” nine said, moving to stand.

“no,” gavin crawled away from him, pulling himself up, gripping the edge of the counter to do so. “i’ll clean it, you need to go,” his voice sounded strained but his face remained the same, fixated on a spot just above nine’s head.

“gavin, we need to talk--” nine pushed off the floor, trying to move toward gavin, but he put up a hand to stop him.

“you need to leave,” gavin repeated, sniffling in--he refused to look nine in the eye as he said it, moving only to make the space between them larger. nine knew he wanted him to hold back, skirted around the edge of the bathroom until he was standing in the doorway, arms by his side, a wave of defeat washing over him.

“gavin,” he began, trying to ignore the look gavin gave him. “i can understand if you’re uncomfortable, but i’m worried i may have done something to upset you, and i think for the sake of our partnership we should discuss this,”

“you don’t need to know anything about me,” gavin opened the medicine cabinet, reaching in with his good hand to take up a long patch of gauze, alcohol, and painkiller.

“and if i’d like to?”

“like an echo dot could understand neo-dadaist humor.” gavin scoffed, rolled his eyes with his wet sounding response. “just fuck off.”

as nine continued to linger in the doorway, wrought with indecision, he began to clean and dress the gash on his arm with his non dominant hand. nine resisted the urge to reach out and stabilize the wrapping, how he would be able to pull the bandages tighter, fold and tape it shut better, help him fetch a glass of water and make sure he ate.

_ [err0r: sof4war5 insta1b8ty] _

_ god _ what was he doing here?

gavin finally looked toward him, fixing him with a gaze that caused the blood to rush to his face.

‘why do you care so much, anyways?”

nine swallowed--unnecessarily, but out of mimicked habit. his voice came soft, almost hoarse, as he spoke.

“am i not allowed to care about my partner?”

gavin’s eyes grew glassy and out of focus. 

“that’s not what i meant,” he tried, but nine continued.

“what do you want me to do, detective?  _ gavin _ ?”

gavin squeezed his eyes shut, reeling, clutching the countertop to steady himself. his mind was a drugged, drunk mess of words and incorrect emotions--torn between wanting to sock the overpriced roomba where he stood or pulling him back into his arms. some sense of safety had washed over him as he had sat there, realizing how this wasn’t a  _ joke  _ on RK’s part. but he was vividly scared of what RK would think of him now, if he said any of that out loud--he forced himself to breathe, leveling his heart rate, trying to calm his anxiety.

“gavin?” nine’s voice came again, this time a fraction louder. gavin opened his eyes--nine was holding out a shirt to him, folded in his palm. gavin took it without hesitation, changing from the bloody, sweaty one to the other as fast as he could, color flooding his face. 

“i don’t want you to do anything,” gavin managed, looking more at himself in the mirror than at nine. “it’s not your fault--it wasn’t--just,” he shook his head. “you can stay.”

nine sighed all at once, relief flooding him.  _ [stress level decreased] _

“okay. of course. i’ll stay.”

gavin sighed through his nose, face drawn in thought. his arms were folded across his chest, but as he dropped them they swung weakly--he stepped forward, crashing himself into nine, curling both arms around his torso. nine went rigid, gently placing both hands at the middle of gavin’s back, despite being so unsure.

“i hate you,”

“i know,” nine replied, head resting against gavin’s.

“thank you.” gavin’s voice came muffled, but it was a shame he missed the small smile that came to nine’s face, if even for a moment.

“anything for you, gavin.”

 

gavin did not remember being put to bed the night prior, but found himself, head still spinning with alcohol induced vertigo, left in his day clothes, tucked under his sheets. a glass of water was perched on the nightstand. he rubbed his eyes, blurred with sleep, and reached blindly to take up his phone, trying to check the time.

8:32 am.

okay.

but a text from nine caught his attention secondly, postmarked for 11:16 pm the previous night.

_ i hope you are feeling alright enough to wake up tomorrow morning. keep in mind i have put the take away pasta into your fridge, taken the liberty of leaving you with several painkillers to rid yourself of any post-intoxicant pain, and will check up on you in the morning.  _

_ god _ , gavin thought,  _ sometimes he isn’t an ass _ . he couldn’t help the smile that split his face, wide, giddy. something about the lingering drunkenness about him, the dopamine that had flooded him following nine’s text, despite it feeling foreign it felt good and right and only fair to repay him for his kindness. he thought about calling him, just for a moment, then decided against it.

_ you are _ , gavin began in his text,  _ a legend _ .  _ xx _

_ pardon? _

_ you’re great _

_ you are also fair and good in most situations. _

_ flirting? _

_ go back to sleep, detective. you possibly are still experiencing delusions from your intoxication. _

_ okay xx _

holy shit, what was he doing? gavin blinked, hard, tried to set his mind straight. he remembered nine asking him to eat, letting him sit close on the couch, watch over as he finished a good portion of whatever nine had handed him. he had simply trusted that it wasn’t poisoned--it was probably the best thing he had eaten in his life. nine had asked him to drink several glasses of water. he had cleared out the empty beverage cans himself, swept off portions of the coffee table, generally tidied while gavin nursed his water. he remembered they had talked, nine’s face wrought with concern, but he couldn’t remember about what. had he told nine anything he would regret?

had nine told him something on the basis that he wouldn’t remember?

_ no _ , he shook his head,  _ no way _ .

obviously, it hadn’t been bad enough for nine to  _ not _ check in on him the morning after, as he had received several texts back, the last of which told him to go back to sleep. his phone buzzed from where it had slid down beside his shoulder. it was another text from nine.

_ do you mind if i stop by? hank has asked me to bring you some medicine and to make sure you consume a breakfast of some sort. _

_ sure _ , gavin shot back, an odd thrum settling in his chest, in the beat of his heart. he finally sat up in bed, head giving an awful swim of vertigo as he did. he pressed the flat of his palms against his eyes, taking a long deep breath in as the spinning subsided. despite his brain feeling the equivalent of a bass boosted, hyper-distorted rap song, he reached for the painkillers and the full glass of water, and shuffled toward the edge of the bed. 

he stood slowly, as to not KO himself as he shuffled over to the dresser. the cat, once perched at the edge of the bed, now followed him, circling around his feet and giving soft meows as he dug through one drawer, looking for a plain shirt. he was able to scrounge up a shirt and a pair of jeans, both of which were clean, to his surprise, before the orange cat at his heels got any more impatient. she sat outside the bathroom door, protesting loudly, as he showered, jabbed himself in the side with a needle full of T, and, not looking in the mirror, changed. 

there was a green-grey bruise on his shoulder that only hurt when he poked at it ( _ dumbass _ , he chided himself) and he decided the gauze around his arm was clean enough to wait for a change.

he opened the bathroom door to find the cat waiting for him, but had no idea where the other could be. she followed him into the kitchen, watched as he popped the lid on a can of food, waiting for a slinky, black and brown streak to join them. she did, meowing loudly, jumping down from the top of the refrigerator at the sight of the can being opened.

“long time no see, feej,” he muttered to himself. the orange cat, darling, still at his feet, gave him a swat. gavin set the can of food on the ground, and let them have at it.

the pounding behind his eyes, in tandem with the dizzying motion, had begun to lessen with the painkiller, but he still felt light, woozy, skin cold to the touch. he switched on the coffeemaker sitting on the countertop, turned the faucet to cold, tried to down another glass of water. the dry feeling in his throat persisted, but at least he didn’t feel like absolute  _ death _ \--he could even say he felt okay, looking forward to seeing RK, even.

his stomach twisted at that idea, but the coffee pot bubbling and hissing snapped him out of his thoughts. hopefully the two pods of pike roast he had dumped in two nights ago would settle his stomach somewhat. the time on the coffee pot read 9:03am.

as he poured himself a cup of coffee and let himself muse over it from where he sat upon the counter, there came a knock at the door. gavin held back a groan, pushing himself from the counter, his coffee cup left abandoned on the faux granite. he shuffled over to the entryway, stretching, joints popping, stretched up just enough to peek through the aperture, only to see nine looking back at him. he jolted back, stumbling, before he fumbled for the lock, pulling the door towards him. 

“hey, RK,” he blinked, a frown showing in his eyebrows. a flash of solace passed over nine’s permanently unreadable facade, of which had only cracked the night prior.

“good morning, gavin,” nine’s hands were folded in front of him, shoulders drawn in, a tight stance of uncertainty conveyed across his whole form and how he spoke. each syllable seemed over-calculated and planned in advance and that  _ hurt _ gavin, somewhere within him, under the layers of nausea and lightheadedness. 

“don’t just stand there, y’weirdo.”

nine ducked his head, moving into the entryway.

“sorry,” he shrugged the brown coat from his shoulders--it must of been cold outside, colder than normal for the season. nine wasn’t wearing any gloves, and had on a dark sweater instead of the stupid lab-coat esque get up gavin was used to seeing. same beige pants. RK would be RK, he supposed.

“no, it’s fine,” gavin finally managed, after giving nine a good once over. he moved back to the far counter to pick up his cup of coffee, finding it to still be hot. he cradled it in both hands and turned back to nine, who stood stiffly still beside where he had hung his coat.

“you don’t have to just stand there, you can walk around, i’m not gonna do anything crazy,” gavin took a long sip of coffee. nine took his advice, moving around the counter and pulling out a chair, sitting at the countertop, arms resting on the table. gavin watched him from the other side, still drinking. nine folded his hands over upon each other, not watching gavin except from the corner of his eye. setting his cup down, gavin let out a sigh.

“look,” he began, pressing his palms flat on the countertop. “if this is about last night, i’m sorry if i said something stupid. and thank you, seriously, for checking in on me. you didn’t do anything wrong. it’s just...me. i feel horrible. i wasn’t going to actually do it, it’s just the only thing that helps. it’s not you.”

“i understand,” nine said, looking up at him for a moment. “but i am worried about you, gavin, truly. you’re not alone in this. i care about your safety. i’m your partner at the police department, yes, but i’m...i’m also here to protect you.”

“right...” gavin flashed a smile, patted the countertop, an uncomfortable turn settling in his stomach. “thank you—i’m okay, though,” he added. “i’m really fine.”

“you don’t have to lie, gavin,” nine protested.

“i’m not.”

“you don’t have to be fine,”

“i  _ am  _ fine!”

“gavin,”

“nine, i’m gonna be okay, please,” gavin sighed heavily, rinsed out his coffee cup, grumbling as he did. “chill with the concern,”

gavin moved around the counter, over toward the main living space. he shuffled the pillows on the couch, flopped down with a noticeable  _ oof. _ he let his body uncoil, arms falling into his lap, legs resting on the coffee table yet again. he was mostly proportionate but to nine he seemed even shorter than usual. gavin rested his head back against the couch, another tired sigh leaving him.

“i’m sorry,” he said, after a beat. “i don’t mean to be an asshole, i just...don’t expect it.”

“you don’t expect concern?” nine said, his voice dropping in volume. he turned toward gavin in the chair, folding his legs over the other, leaning his back against the countertop. it was almost  _ cute _ , if the situation didn’t make gavin want to light himself on fire and refuse any pity water he might get.

gavin rubbed at his face with his hands--another sigh, god, he felt like he might die.

“no, i just, it doesn’t feel right. it’s strange. you like, watched me have a whole mental breakdown and still wanna talk to me. i didn’t expect you to care.”

nine blinked. he knew he wasn’t going to admit that gavin was right, that it was strange for nine to care, to reach out and help him. he wondered if this meant gavin was catching on to how human he really was, how he couldn’t avoid human emotions, the mere semblance of physical and emotional pain, and how much the strong, streak of empathy ran through him, as much as it did connor, and how that emotional core was pivotal in so many software programs for police protocol. each time he earned a look at the inside workings of gavin, he thought,  _ maybe he does feel that way _ , but each time it faded, he knew he had skipped a wire, ran a faulty code, blamed himself.

_ just talk to him _ .

“of course i would keep talking to you, your mental health is extremely important. you must keep on top of your medication. also, i looked into some people you can see as well,” nine began, but backtracked as he continued.

“i...i do care. i care about you and your wellbeing. and it isn’t that i  _ just _ care,” nine shifted around, face pulling in concentration. “i’ve been talking with hank, because i have not been able to understand how i am feeling to the proper extent. especially now, in deviancy, everything is too muddled to understand,”

gavin frowned, lowered his hands, tried his best to look in nine’s general direction with the way he was sitting. nine exuded an uncomfortable energy, and, clearing his throat, gavin tried to relieve some of that tension.

“hey,” he said gently, patted the open space of couch beside him, “come sit.”

after a beat of hesitation, nine unraveled his long legs and vacated the chair, moving to sit next to gavin, shifting the pillows as he did. he pulled his legs up to fold them again before he continued.

“it is possible that everything i experience as an unprovoked, strong feeling is a flaw, a mistake in the way my emotional core was built. i’ve discussed this with connor, and with hank. i have erased each memory of feeling such a strong emotion over one hundred times,” nine glanced away for a moment, noticing darling move in the corner of his eye, smiling just barely.

“how many...wait, R, why?”

“one hundred and twenty four times, because i believed each was a mistake.”

“each what?”

there was a lull as nine’s face pitched into a frown, him shifting in his seat, shoulders bowing forward just enough so that gavin saw, face showing the same concern that nine’s had. emotional response, a negative emotional response that nine did not want to be feeling, the same upset he felt deep inside him, made his stress level rise, and he felt as if he couldn’t talk, but spoke without thinking.

“gavin, i have, for lack of better word choice, fallen, in love one hundred and twenty four times, with you.”

“RK--” gavin’s stomach dropped, his head light, swirling. there was no way he understood what he was saying, not a possible chance he wasn’t completely trying to fuck with gavin. 

“and the one hundred twenty fifth was the only time i believed it not to be a fluke.”

“you don’t know what you’re saying,” gavin’s voice fell low and hoarse. “you can’t possibly understand what that means,”

“ _ please _ ,” nine soothed, but gavin shook his head, pulling his legs and arms in on themselves. 

“the third time in my life i get an honest confession and you don’t even know what it  _ means _ !”

“gavin, i  _ do _ ,”

“then why  _ me _ ?” gavin pressed his hands against his face, let them fall back into his lap.

“i do not think i have an answer to that, i apologize.”

gavin reached out, the motion tentative, showing nine his empty palm. nine took his hand, locking them together, moving forward on the couch. gavin squeezed his hand and he felt his stomach drop, soft white skin showing under the pads of gavin’s fingers.

“that’s okay,” gavin sniffled, shook his head, his voice wavering. “i--a hundred twenty five times? why...why didn’t...you could’ve said something--why didn’t you say anything?”

nine shut his eyes, taking a deep breath in. “i could not stand to hurt you if it was a fluke.”

a blush lit up gavin’s cheeks, creeping across his neck and ears. though a smile worked its way onto his face, nine could tell that it was self deprecating.

“hank didn’t tell you, did he?”

“no?” nine questioned, impeded by another sniffle from gavin.

“back when we were working on the fake, ponzi scheme, cyberlife store bit, we started actually getting along--” he covered his face with his free hand. “god, my headass was already head over heels. hank knew. i felt so stupid because i thought there was no use, like, you’re an android!”

“i’m sorry,” nine said, his own voice faltering. he gave gavin’s hand a weak squish, moving close enough that his knee bumped into gavin’s calf. gavin exhaled all at once, the same smile he had before showing on his face, followed by a wet, bubbling laugh. he bowed forward, head falling against nine’s shoulder, tucking himself close and closing the space between them. his free hand cradled the back of nine’s neck and he spoke against his throat.

“it’s okay,” he said and nine folded against him, arms tight around his shoulders and forehead on his shoulder. 

“you make me feel so many things.”

“the feeling’s--fuck, careful, tin, back of my shoulder’s beat to hell.”

nine relaxed his grip, still clinging to gavin, but soft.

“the feeling’s mutual, dumbass.” gavin’s voice was warm against his shoulder and nine only leaned deeper into him.

nine spoke again after a beat. “we should take a look at your shoulder.”

“i guess,”

“will you let me?”

he felt gavin nod against him. “yeah.”

“you don’t have to,” nine assured him, but gavin shook his head.

“no, it’s probably not great. it needs to be checked out.”

“okay,” nine said, letting his hands brush down gavin’s arms as they parted.

gavin turned shifted himself to the side, moving to lift his sleeve up and over his shoulder. the bruise, a soft green, spread down the back of his arm a short ways and up over the shoulder joint. 

“it isn’t too bad,” nine said. “some ice, perhaps compression if you wish, but it should heal in about a week.”

“that’s good,” gavin mused. “it hurts like hell.”

“what do you think happened?”

“must’a been when i ran into the shower door last night.”

“yeah?”  nine brushed his hand gently over gavin’s arm and felt him shiver involuntarily. 

“i’m surprised it’s not worse.” he turned his torso toward nine, nodding.

nine nodded in return, but couldn’t help but give gavin a once over, not scanning him as he would like, but keeping mental tabs of the way he was sitting, one leg folded under him, eyes not fully focused but darting away from where nine was looking at his shoulder .

“quit scanning me, jeez.” gavin muttered, pulling his shirt sleeve down.

“i apologize, gavin. it was inevitable.”

“yeah, right,” gavin scoffed, but there was no hint of scorn in his voice. nine smiled, this time a real, true, smile, and gavin felt his heart skip and then backflip. nine’s eyes still flitted across his face, expression contorted, LED spinning just enough to know he had another question on his mind.

“go on,” gavin prompted, “you’ve got another question,”

“i was just wondering about your cat,” nine glanced down, “is she here?”

gavin glaced down as well, trying to see what nine could, face pulling in a face of confusion, then, looking from nine’s face to behind nine’s shoulder. 

“i mean,” he shrugged. “she’s probably just hiding around somewhere,”

nine nodded. “it’s good for you to have something to take care of, it increases productivity.”

gavin managed a smile--how the fuck could nines go from absolute softie to picking apart gavin’s life again--and sighed shakily-- “yeah, she’s a lucky bitch sometimes, but she’s a doll,”

nine seemed confused by his terms of endearment and figure of speech, but smiled none the less--the stupid smile was plastered to his face it seemed like. gavin would have to teach him to emote better, but for now, it was kind of cute.

“why don’t we get you something to eat?” nine prodded, shaking gavin out of a haze. he nodded, his own small smile coming across his face.

“yeah, let’s do that.”

nine took his time warming up the leftover gnudi, passing gavin, who had come up to stand idly beside him the warm plate once it was finished. as gavin began to dig through his drawers for a fork, nine rinsed the glass sitting in the sink and filled it with water. gavin had already begun to eat with a forceful speed before nine turned around, and as nine faced him, he stopped, fork halfway between his mouth and the plate.

nine shook his head, pushed the fork up towards him.

“go on, finish what you started, then go sit.”

gavin shoveled down the particularly large bite and nine ushered him forward, one hand against the space between his shoulder blades, holding to the glass with the other hand. he set the glass down on the coffee table as gavin sat, pulling his legs under him, plate balanced on his knee. he stopped eating for a moment, took in a long breath, looked up at nine in awe.

“i, uh...i...” he stuttered, worrying the inside of his cheek. “thank you, uh, thank you for stopping by. really, thanks,” gavin’s posture deflated as a weight seemed to lift from his shoulders. 

nine breathed shakily. “anything for you, gavin. honestly.”

a smile lit up gavin’s face, but fell as he screwed up his expression in thought.

“R--nine--nines, uh, can i call you that? it’s better than R, yeah?”

nine blinked and felt himself fall into vertigo.

“sure,” he said, feeling starstruck.

“nines”--something about that made nine melt, shut out all the other thoughts in his system--”i felt bad, for a long time, about having...ugh, i don’t know, feelings, for you--not because of you but because i didn’t feel like it would be reciprocated--” gavin waved his empty hand around, ran it through his hair, looking uncomfortable. he continued nonetheless.

“i get that it’s okay but, but i guess i’m relieved?” he shook his head, averting his eyes.

“i felt the same way,” nine began, crouching down to be more on gavin’s level. “you know that well, i was deeply troubled and uncertain of...typical human emotions.”

gavin bobbed his head, but still didn’t nine’s eye.

“and i know quite well that the relationship between humans and androids has not always been smooth, but you are not the first person to feel this way. perhaps consider what generation of humanity you were raised with, as well.”

gavin thought to himself for a moment, before a smile wormed its way onto his face, shoulders shaking with the bubbling of a laugh in his chest.

“yeah, yeah i guess so, i guess you’re right,” he confessed.

“gavin, i am mostly right,” nine said. “but if you have any concerns, doubts, please, don’t be afraid to talk to me.” 

again, gavin bobbed his head, this time looking up at nine, assurance written all over his face. nine patted his knee in solidarity, but before he had the chance to move to sit back down, gavin took his hand. he squeezed it once, thumb running over the ridges of nine’s knuckle.

“i love you,” he said, all at once, but almost inaudible enough to have nine miss it.

“and i...love you,” nine breathed out, synthetic breath collapsing his chest as he spoke, the fluttery sensation in him returning.

gavin grinned, ducking his head. he picked up his fork, which had long since fallen back to the plate, with his free hand, letting nine’s hand still rest, curled up, in his other hand. 

nine moved to the couch and sat down next to gavin. the cushions sagged, bringing them side-by-side, gavin tucked up near nine’s left shoulder, hand curled around his, knees knocking together. they shared the quiet moment together, gavin’s thumb running small circles against the back of nine’s hand as he ate, nine’s foot curled around his calf.

nine came to a realization as he sat in the soft silence, the television switching on at some point, volume low, his mind unfocused on what it played: he knew what the fluttering in his chest was. what he felt it was.

he was alive.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! i'm always up to chat on my [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/s0fthope)! and i might start a kofi or something if enough people actually like stuff like this...


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